Buried Alive
by prettybirdy979
Summary: A set of unrelated drabbles and short one shots. Involves both John and Sherlock with appearances by other characters. Specific warnings in revelant chapter. Named for first one shot.
1. Buried Alive

**Disclaimer: I do not own... If I did I would not be fighting with my brother and father for access to a computer!**

**Author's Note: This is first in a set of unrelated drabbles and short one-shots that were written for Sherlock October festival on Livejournal. They all take their name from the prompt that spawned them. Enjoy. =D**

_There are certain themes of which the interest is all-absorbing, but which are too entirely horrible for the purposes of legitimate fiction."_

_-The Premature Burial, Edgar Allan Poe_

'Where is he? He should be here!' John frantically began to open cupboards and doors, searching for his missing friend.

'My men have searched this entire place, Doctor. Sherlock isn't here. Maybe we're at the wrong place…' Lestrade began.

'No. The note said here. I know it did.' John walked past the window when something in the yard caught his eye.

'Maybe you got it wrong… wait! Oh, what now?' John had turned and ran for the back door. Lestrade followed him as did the other police officers in the room. John went straight for the corner of the backyard, grabbing a discarded shovel on the way. He quickly began to dig at a patch of dirt.

'What are you doing?'

'The kidnapper's note! It said _I was lost in reveries of death_. That's a quote from Edgar Allan Poe's _The Premature Burial_. This patch of dirt has recently been dug and replaced.'

The police exchanged confused looks and Lestrade opened his mouth to speak but just then John's shovel banged against something wooden. He immediately dropped the shovel and began sweeping the dirt away. There was a collective gasp as they realised it was a coffin. Lestrade quickly grabbed the discarded shovel and began digging down the side of the coffin to free the opening.

The minute it took for Lestrade to dig the coffin out seemed to last forever but then the lid was clear and John and Lestrade were able to open it.

Sherlock was inside; his eyes closed and face peaceful. He looked just like a corpse.

'Get him out of there!' John yelled. Lestrade grabbed Sherlock's shoulders and pulled him out of the coffin. Gently, he placed him on his back on the ground, a good way away from the coffin.

'Back off! Back off!' John growled. 'You! Call an ambulance.' A startled policeman walked off to do just that. The rest moved back, giving John space to work and Sherlock space to breath.

'Is he breathing?' Lestrade asked. When John didn't reply, he assumed the worst. 'Doctor, is he breathing?'

John sat back on his heels, relief all over his face. 'Yes. He's breathing.'

Lestrade sighed. 'Thank goodness. You saved his life, Doctor.'

And John just smiled. 'It's what I'm here for.'

* * *

**Buried Alive**


	2. Murder

****

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

**Author's Note: This one comes from the prompt of murder. *Character death.* **

* * *

**Relief**

'It's murder.'

'You sure Sherlock? It looks just like a s'

'It's murder.'

'I know this must have come as a shock to you, but couldn't it have been'

'No. This. Is. Murder.'

'Sherlock, people do kill themselves sometimes.'

'Yes, for perfectly clear and obvious reasons. Reasons I would be able to observe.'

'Sometimes, you can't see what's right in front of you.'

'…Not I.'

'Sherlock...'

'Plus there are the other obvious signs. Two cups of tea, recently washed and placed away, meaning someone else was here.'

'So? Doesn't mean murder.'

'And the cuts on the wrists.'

'What about them?'

'They're straight; meaning the hand that made them didn't shake at all. Impossible, at least for the second cut.'

'…'

'Exactly Lestrade. Adding to this is the threat made against me.'

'By Moriarty?'

'Yes. He threatened to burn the heart out of me…'

'What is it Sherlock?'

'It's just…this isn't who I thought he would target.'

Lestrade seemed lost for words at this and said nothing as Sherlock turned his back on Mrs Hudson's body. He could see John through the window, sitting in the back of an ambulance. He had a bright orange blanket around him and was clearly in shock, after having discovered the body.

And watching him, Sherlock couldn't shake the relief he felt at it having been Mrs Hudson who had died.

_Don't worry. I'm coming for your heart next. M_


	3. Haunting

**Disclaimer: Don't own**

**Author's Note: Prompt of haunting. **

* * *

'Wait what? Say that again.'

'Why John? You have been given all the facts and you've been given the conclusion. Why do you need it repeated?'

'I just need to get this straight.' John turned to the figure by the violin. 'Over a hundred years ago there was another Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson living here.'

'Correct.'

'They both died, three years apart, in this flat.'

'Yes, Doctor.'

'And now, what? You both haunt the flat?'

The ghostly figure of the orginal Sherlock Holmes attempted to pick up the violin. 'Not normally, no.'

'I give up.' John collapsed into his chair. Holmes managed to pick the violin up, and began to play a series of screeches and loud noises. Sherlock listened for a moment, and then headed into the kitchen. After a moment Holmes followed, possibly to see what his namesake was up to. Probably an experiment if John knew Sherlock.

'What on earth did I do to deserve two Sherlock Holmes to deal with?' John placed his head in his hands.

'The same thing you did in order to gain another John Watson to help.' John raised his head to look at the other Doctor Watson, sitting in the other armchair.

They smiled at another, and then flinched when a loud bang, smoke and an argument over the validity of the experiment came out of the kitchen.

'Fancy a walk?' Watson asked.

'Oh God yes.'


	4. I'll get you my pretty'

**Disclaimer: Do not own.**

**Author's note: Prompt of 'I'll get you my pretty!' **

* * *

It was John who made the tackle, knocking the fleeing murderer to the ground. Lestrade was standing by the door, shock still on his face. Sherlock was smirking, having correctly deduced that the murderer was the policeman who had discovered the body.

'Good job, John. Come on, there's a new Chinese shop down the road.' John let go of the suspect as the other police handcuffed him, still slightly shocked. The man was raving, clearly upset at having been discovered.

'I'll get you my pretty! And your little dog too!' he yelled. Sherlock paused, a slight look of confusion on his face. John was bemused. _Is he mad?_ Looking back at the mangled body, he thought, _yes, perhaps he is._ Looking up, he saw Sherlock's face.

'Oh, come on. Don't tell me you've never seen _The Wizard of Oz_ either.'

'I won't.'

'Won't what?'

'Tell you I've never seen _The Wizard of Oz_.'

'Right,' he grabbed Sherlock's sleave. 'We're going to go watch it now.'

_**

* * *

**_

Personal Blog of Dr John Watson

_I can't believe how much of pop culture Sherlock doesn't know. He's never seen the Wizard of Oz! Or the Princess Bride (which may have helped him in the first case I worked with him), or Titanic or even Harry Potter! I'm trying to educate him by having movie nights… It's not going so well. But I'm trying._

_3 comments_

_**Posted by Sherlock Holmes **_

_Why do I need to know "There's no place like home." It is of no relevance to my work! Hard drive, remember!_

_**Posted by John Watson**_

_Because it's pop culture! Everyone knows it! What if you have a case that requires you to know something about a movie?_

_**Posted by Sherlock Holmes**_

_That's what I have you for._


	5. Trick or Treat

**Disclaimer: Do not own, sadly.**

**Author's Note: In honour of it being Halloween. Prompt of Trick or Treat.**

* * *

'No Sherlock.'

'No?'

'No. We cannot do this. It's not done.

'The facts support it.'

'What facts?'

'It's quite a common thing to do. Every T.V show recently has mentioned it.'

'What have you been watching? It doesn't matter; I won't do this with you.'

'…Why not? It would be an excellent experiment.'

'I don't care. I'm not going Trick or Treating with you and that's final.'

Sherlock, standing in the doorway in what appeared to be a vampire costume, began to pout. John just signed and moved into the kitchen to make tea.

_Sometimes living with Sherlock is like living with a child._


	6. Skull

**Discalimer: Don't own**

**Author's Note: Sorry about the long wait, I've been a little busy. Prompt of skull.**

* * *

'How do I get into these situations?'

'I do hope that's not a genuine question or I'll have to re-evaluate my opinion of your intelligence.'

'You have a good opinion of my intelligence?'

'Of course. You're just an idiot, rather than a complete idiot like the rest of the world.'

'I'm flattered. Any idea how to get out of this mess?'

'It's not that a big a mess.'

'Sherlock, we're in a locked cellar surrounded by skulls and you have a head wound. How is this not a mess?'

'Mycroft isn't here. Hmm… which skull would be the best for Yorick the second?'

'You're not taking a skull.'

'Why not?'

'They're evidence. And people. And it's not right.'

'…'

'How can you still glare? Your eyes aren't even focusing!'

I have a thick skull. To protect my brain.'

'…You've got that one right.'


	7. Darkness

****

**Disclaimer: I don't own**

**Author's Note: Okay this one is dark... fitting for the prompt of darkness. Spoilers for The Great Game and mentions a major character death. Also this the last one I've written, but I looking for one word prompts if anyone has them...**

* * *

There was a difference, he thought, between this and boredom. Boredom was nothing, fleeting compared to this.

Mrs Hudson was the only one keeping him alive. Her meals turned up every time the lights came on, even if he didn't notice her actually come in. But how could he? Every moment he was awake was spent debating, reanalysing, and trying in vain to find a way to save J…him. To get him away from Moriarty and the pool. But every way still ended in death, still ended in the darkness that had taken over his senses and brought him to… this.

This existence where darkness had taken over everything. Where boredom, the worse part of his existence before was nothing.

Nothing compared to this, where it felt as if all the world had been coated in black, as if someone had turned off very light that existed and he was left standing here in the dark.

Alone.


	8. Raining

**Disclaimer: I don't own**

**Author's Note: My first prompt fill for this series. It's Cyberbutterfly's, prompt of Raining. It turned into my idea of how The Great Game is to end so don't read this if you haven't seem that.**

* * *

It had just begun to rain when the call came in. Lestrade had seen the new message on Sherlock's site and he and his team were scrambling to try and figure out where Sherlock meant. Donovan's check of John's blog and she had noted that John and Sherlock were both missing, and the search had become even more frantic.

Then a report of an explosion at a London swimming pool came in. Everyone knew it was somehow connected to their mysterious bomber and it only took Lestrade's team seconds to arrive at the conclusion that this was the pool Sherlock had been talking about on him website. They grabbed all their equipment and were on their way to the scene in record time.

Sherlock may not have been very well liked but he was a honourary Yarder in most of the policemen's minds. And police would do anything they could to help one of their own.

Lestrade was very proud. Right up until he arrived at the pool and found the only emotion he could feel was horror.

And fear.

Fire fighters were all over the area, fighting the small fires that still burned. Paramedics were waiting for the go ahead to start searching the wreckage. And Lestrade's team was closing down the scene, beginning to interview witnesses and searching for their missing colleague.

As soon as the last dangerous fire was put out, Lestrade had got himself attached to a paramedic who had the training required to search the wreckage. He had argued that there may be a dangerous criminal inside and had managed to convince them he was needed there.

He wasn't prepared for what he found in the destroyed building. There were no lights working, torches being the only way they could see anything. The air inside was dusty, forcing Lestrade to wear a mask and he found his shoes getting very wet. It seemed the explosion had destroyed the pools' wall and now all the water was everywhere.

There was still no sign of Sherlock.

Then, suddenly, Lestrade and his paramedic partner Tony found a gun being pointed at them.

'I see you.'

They froze even as the man cocked the gun. Slowly, Lestrade lifted his torch beam so it was lighting up the man's face.

He had never been so relieved to see Sherlock in his life, even if he was pointing what could only be an illegal gun at him.

'Sherlock, its...'

'Moriarty. Are you practicing your imitations now? Because that's not a very good try at imitating Lestrade.'

'Sherlock, it's me!' Lestrade pointed his torch at his face, closing his eyes as the bright light hit his eyes.

'…Lestrade?' Sherlock's voice sounded weak now and it had a confused tone to it. Slowly he began to lower the gun.

'Yes, I'm here to help you.' Lestrade pointed his torch at Sherlock, causing the man to flinch and cover his eyes with his hand. Lestrade however didn't notice this. He was too busy surveying the injuries on Sherlock. There was a bleeding wound on his torso, blood was barely visible on the side of his chest and there was a bad burn on his left leg. He was holding his shoulder wrong, and Lestrade guessed it to be dislocated from having seen similar looking stances in his footy days.

The most worrying thing, however, was the blood all over his hands.

'Sherlock, what happened to your hands?' as Lestrade spoke Tony moved forward to help. Sherlock took a step back, keeping out of Tony's way.

'No, no. Don't help me. I don't need it.'

'Sherlock!' Lestrade cried.

'Don't yell.' Tony said. 'Look at his eyes, it's probable he has a concussion and is a bit disorientated.'

Lestrade nodded. 'Sherlock,' he said softly. 'You're bleeding. You need help.'

'I'm not the one who needs help.' Sherlock was still walking backwards, forcing Lestrade and Tony to move with him.

'Then who does?' It wasn't fair that even with a concussion Sherlock was still ten steps ahead of everyone else.

Sherlock looked Lestrade in the eyes, his own full of something; an emotion Lestrade would have called fear on anyone else's face. 'John.' He said. 'John needs your help.'

Then his legs gave out from under him and only Lestrade's quick reflexes stopped Sherlock hitting his head on the ground. As he caught Sherlock, he dropped his torch. When he looked for it as he placed Sherlock on the ground, he was shocked to see a body in the torch beam.

Leaving Tony with Sherlock, he moved to examine the body. He was surprised to realise it was John, though he wasn't sure why. John had been missing and Sherlock had said he needed their help…

Lestrade quickly checked if John was breathing. He sighed with relief when he realised John was, and called on his radio for another paramedic. Something began to bother him about Sherlock and how he had been standing but he ignored it.

Later, as he watched the pair being wheeled out of the broken building on stretchers he thought over what had happened. And he watched the ambulance leave, he realised what had bothered him about Sherlock's position.

_He was standing directly in front of John, blocking him from our view. And he thought we were that bomber…oh what was his name? Moriarty? Sherlock was protecting John. _Lestrade thought over this realisation adding into it the look Sherlock had had in his eyes when asking them to help John. _Maybe there is a good man in him after all…and his name is John._

And the rain continued to fall.


	9. Raining Take Two

**Disclaimer: The only Sherlock things I own is the DVDs and soon the ACD books. Nothing else.**

**Author's Note: When I first wrote Raining, the last one-shot, I had a vague idea about Donovan/Anderson being there. This is a rewrite of that scene, to include Donovan and somehow has resulted in a completely different plot and unrelated to both the orginal prompt and resulting story.**

**All first aid details are as acturate as my memory allows and yes, my instructor really did advise me to use that song to help with timing. It works.**

* * *

Lestrade was the first man on the scene. Well, one of them anyway. He knew he should have tried to lock the scene down, call for back-up and not enter the building but he also knew he couldn't. Sherlock had posted a mention of a pool on his site and when Lestrade had connected the dots, he had realised that Sherlock meant the pool from the original crime. He had dashed out of the station leaving a very confused team behind him. Made him feel a bit like he imagined Sherlock felt, really. He hadn't expected Donovan to follow him, but she had caught up with him at the car and refused to let him go wherever he was going alone. Unwilling to waste time he let her come to the pool he identified.

Only to arrive just in time to watch the pool blow sky high.

They had both been thrown to the ground by the force of the shock wave. As soon as was possible he had picked himself up and had dashed into the burning building. He wasn't concerned about his safety; he only wanted to help the person he knew was inside. He heard Donovan calling for him to stop from some place behind him but he didn't care. He was a police officer and his job was to help people.

Especially since that person was his friend.

Inside was chaos. Some of the beams had collapsed and Lestrade knew the building wasn't stable. He began to scan the wreckage, searching for Sherlock.

'SHERLOCK!' he cried, when there was no sign of him. 'SHERLOCK!' He could hear Donovan a few steps behind him, doing the same. He was grateful she was willing to do this for him, even though she made her dislike of Sherlock quite clear.

Suddenly in the quiet of the building he heard a noise. He looked up to see a sightly familiar man standing on the other side of the pool. He was wearing some kind of fancy suit but as it was damaged, with burn marks whatever effect he was going for was gone. He was clearly injured, but his eyes were still clear when they met Lestrade's from across the pool. Then with a smile, he turned and limped away. It took Lestrade a second to realise that this man had to be the bomber, the dangerous man Sherlock had come to meet.

He took two steps towards where the man was, before a voices speaking near him drew Lestrade's attention. He searched the area more thoroughly and was shocked to see what he found.

Sherlock was leaning over John, who was on his back. Sherlock had his lips on John's and it looked like…well it looked like a kiss. Lestrade wasn't sure, but he thought a make-out session after being blown up may not be healthy. He heard Donovan make a disgusted huff beside him.

Then Sherlock removed his lips from John's and began to push down on his chest and Lestrade understood. Sherlock wasn't kissing John, he was breathing for him.

Which meant John wasn't breathing.

Lestrade was halfway to John's side before he had even thought about it. Close up, he could see the toll the CPR was taking on Sherlock. He was exhausted, clearly having been at this for a few minutes. Without thinking, when Sherlock went to breathe for John next, Lestrade pushed in beside him, so it was his hands above John's chest. Sherlock looked at him confused for a second, then as he realised what Lestrade was doing he moved out of the way and behind John's head, ready to breathe when needed. Donovan was still standing beside where Lestrade had been clearly in shock at Sherlock's actions.

'Donovan! Call for backup!' She nodded, knocked out of her shock by Lestrade's voice. She grabbed her radio and began to call for the paramedics.

Lestrade was grateful for all the first aid lectures he had had to attend as he began to count out 30 compressions, keeping them in time with the beat of 'Another bites the Dust' that was playing in his head. He would have sung it out loud, but he remembered the warnings his instructors gave him about it not being appropriate.

_30 and breathe, breathe. 1 and 2 and 3 and 4…how long until backup comes?_

Lestrade wasn't waiting for John to mysteriously come to life; he knew his only job was to keep him breathing until the paramedics arrived.

And then, like his thoughts had brought them, they arrived. Sherlock and Lestrade went through another two cycles before they were able to take over, pushing them off to one side. The pair watched them work, both of them waiting for the word…

'I've got a pulse.' One paramedic called after the second use of the defibrillation machine.

'Right, get him in an ambulance.' Lestrade breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Sherlock. Sherlock's face was impassive, stone. But there was a relieved light in his eyes.

'He's going to be okay.'

'He saved my life, inspector.' Sherlock said as if he hadn't heard Lestrade. 'He pushed me into the pool out of the way of the explosion.'

'He's a hero then.'

'I told him heroes don't exist. And I still believe that.' Sherlock ran his eyes over John, who was being lifted onto a stretcher.

'Sherlock-'

'But if they did exist,' Sherlock cut in. 'he would be one.'

Lestrade was taken aback by this show of…well _emotion_ from Sherlock.

Sherlock chose that moment to collapse.


End file.
